


Winter takes a toll

by Bacchaos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Happy Ending, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sick Character, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bacchaos/pseuds/Bacchaos
Summary: Winter peaked its cruel head far before either of them were adequately prepared. Geralt could take violent snowstorm or two his human tag along definitely wasn't fond of that idea. Not that they had much choice in the matter, the neighbouring town was days away. Jaskier did not take that news calmly, whining every chance he got about: how cold it was, how his boots were wet, how he wanted another blanket or another layer of clothing, how it was hard to see in front of them, how he was shivering... Then the complaints stopped
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	Winter takes a toll

Winter peaked its cruel head far before either of them were adequately prepared. Geralt could take a violent snowstorm or two his human tag along definitely wasn't fond of that idea. Not that they had much choice in the matter, the neighbouring town was days away. Jaskier did not take that news calmly, whining every chance he got about: how cold it was, how his boots were wet, how he wanted another blanket or another layer of clothing, how it was hard to see in front of them, how he was shivering... Then the complaints stopped. 

Initially, it was welcomed with open arms. Sure, Jaskier wasn't a quiet person and the silence was a bit strange for him but he always had an excuse ready for Geralt. 

"Huh? Oh, I'm just tired." He would say or something along those lines then the topic would be dropped and both of them would continue their path silently. However, after a while, the silence got less peaceful, and fewer words were exchanged.

Today, three days into the travel Jaskier was having an annoyingly hard time keeping up with the man. If he tried to run, he would end up irritating his sore throat if he continued at his stumbling sluggish tempo Geralt would get suspicious. So, he opted for the former. His vision was swimming and everything was rather hazy.  
Was Jaskier angry, the witcher asked himself but that was quickly brushed aside? It was unlikely for the outspoken, charismatic, chatter-box like Jaskier to not voice his opinions when something distresses him. Great, that annoying bard had managed to wiggle his way into his thoughts too.  
"What's wrong with these days?" He asked, voice as husky as always. What he meant to say was 'Are you okay?' but the words came out harsh not like his partner wasn't used to it.

Jaskier was just about to bump into him when "What do you mean?" The bard breathed out, slight panic behind his blue eyes. He didn't want to admit it; he couldn't. If he told him he could barely walk, Geralt would just leave him in the next town's inn and toss him to the curb. 

"Hm." He was inspecting the other and in turn, Jaskier arched his brow. The witcher scanned his companion up and down with his golden eyes. Pale skin, flushed cheeks, sweating...

"Hm, what Geralt?" His voice was hoarse, having to clear it relentlessly when he decided to talk.

"You're sick." He concluded. 

"What-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well in my defense, it's not that bad." A terrible lie that earned an unbelieving quirk of the eyebrow from the taller man. "I... Didn't want to slow you down either." Jaskier mumbles and looks up finally his sight graying around the edges. He met with a displeased stare and probably a scolding or his final goodbye. Geralt ultimately decides that it was enough; he couldn't handle Jaskier anymore, he was leaving him for. He tried listening to him the least he wanted was to hear his voice one last time before it was gone from his life.

He caught himself on something, perhaps even his foot, and stumbled backward.

"Shit-" He yelped out closing his eyes and waiting for his body to hit the frozen ground but instead he felt a warm hand pull him closer. He could've stayed like that forever, curled in warmth, safe from aliments, and protected from his feverish thoughts. However, something- No, someone was disturbing his daydreams.

"-askier," They said, but he didn't completely grasp it.

"Jaskier." Ah, his name. It was a masculine voice and it sounded worried. Geralt, he thought, it must've been him. He groggily opened his eyes. He didn't want to, he just wanted to sleep, but to humor the witcher he did.

"Need to get you somewhere warm." He continued, voice only a little on edge, he looked around and Jaskier wasn't sure what they were surveying but he wasn't asking. His mouth had betrayed him and wouldn't open no matter how hard he tried, besides it was a work out to keep his eyes from closing. The bard stared at Geralt, blinking slowly, and suddenly a cloak was wrapped around his exhausted body. He instinctively pulled it closer, it was still warm with the witchers' body heat.

The witcher sighed, Jaskier was in no shape to walk like this. He needed resting and needed warmth, a bed, and medicine. None of which Geralt could provide him now. Fortunately, if they hurried, they could be in Płowice in two days but first Jaskier needed to rest.  
He guided the sickly and barely lucid man, who still hadn't uttered anything coherent, over towards a clearing. As gently as he could he propped him over the tree and sprawled out his bedroll.

"Lay down, you need rest." The witcher hushed out, tone rather caring for someone who many saw as emotionless.

"'s fine..." Jaskier slurred out, not exactly correct but the message was nevertheless received. Geralt let the man make himself comfortable and went to collect some wood for the fire. Foolishly, he thought Jaskier would be fine on his own and what a fool he was because 30 minutes later, wood in hand, he came back to an empty bedroll. A surge of pent-up emotion struck his heart, emotions he didn't have time to unpack and examine.

"Jaskier?" He said wearily, throwing the wood at the ground, the witcher's head turned as he investigated his surroundings. There was no way Jaskier got anywhere far in his state but his mind played tricks on him. What if he got wounded or if he got attacked by some monster, what if he was kidnapped or dead in a ditch somewhere...

"Jaskier!"

Everything was distant, he felt like he was in some dream- no, a dreadful nightmare. If Jaskier could describe it, he would say it felt like exploring the world underwater as a small bleeding fish trying to swim away from its inevitable doom being ripped apart by sharks. He was leaning against a tree, unsure of his surroundings but utterly convinced something was trying to kill him. He stumbled awkwardly until a booming voice startled him to the ground. He crawled on his back until it hit a tree which caused him to let out a small whimper.

Geralt focused, he could detect his erratic heartbeat, his staggering footprints. He felt like a wolf hunting for pray and the thought made Geralt even more unease.

"Jaskier!" He repeated, again, quickly catching up to the feverish bard. He saw his partner shivering next to a tree, delirious, glassy eyes looking at his general direction not recognizing the figure in front of him. Geralt's heart jumped, he wasn't sure why but the thought of this hurt. Such a loud, talkative, and confident bard should never be this vulnerable.

The bard whimpered in instinctive fear, pressing himself against the tree as hard as he could. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that hard. Geralt swore to slay whatever beast his mind had conjured, sadly it wouldn’t be as easy as slicing off its head or tearing out its insides. Geralt carefully approached the anxious other, calloused hands raised above him. “Jaskier, it’s me.” Jaskier didn’t answer, instead, his hazy unfocused eyes started filling with burning tears and rolling down his cheeks. At that Geralt was left stumped, unsure of how to help he quietly knelt next to him. A warm hand sought the others and Jaskier took it without hesitation. 

Warmth, he desperately needed warmth. He was so cold.

“Easy.” He rumbled out, his deep voice soothing the desperate man slightly. It was enough to wrap his arms around him. A few uncomfortable minutes a reluctant, trembling hand tugged Geralt's shirt.

“Geralt…” The bard's voice never went above a hoarse whisper, too fearful not to wake the monster that decided to leave him be, metaphorical or not.

“I’m here.” He responded, gently scooping him in his protecting arms. “You need rest.” 

“Cold…” The word sounded more like a mumble. Another whimper. Geralt began thinking of all the ways he could warm up his friend and Jaskier nuzzled closer to the others' chest.  
“You’re safe.” The witcher tried, but he wasn’t known to be a wordsmith. That was Jaskiers' job, one that he couldn’t do right now. The negative thought put a gentle frown on Geralt's face, causing a displeased hum as he laid his partner down onto the bedroll. 

Safe, Jaskier thought, if Geralt said so it must be true. He wouldn’t let him rot in some hole, would he?

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud…

The rest of the night or a couple of days, Jaskier wasn’t sure, went by in a haze. Rough but gentle hands handling him with care, warmth being draped over him, food being offered to him… Sometimes he would feel himself being lifted or placed down. Currently, he felt an unexpected trot. He gently stirred thinking it was just an unpleasant side effect of whatever he was doing in the prior position but he was met with a wall. That’s when he started feeling a warm embrace around him.

“Easy, Jaskier.” He rumbled, quietly enough not to hurt the others sensitive ears. 

His name again, the voice sounded a lot like Geralt with a kind tinge to it and an aura of exhaustion.

“We’re almost there, you can rest properly at the inn.” 

Oh, it was Geralt. He whined piteously and desperately tried to make himself comfortable. This time, Geralt didn’t protest. Jaskier tried to open his bleary eyes but it must’ve been morning and his head hurt far too much for that terrible kind of effort. 

The witcher sighed, the travel here had been less than ideal but he needed to get Jaskier to an actual room. The bard wouldn’t stop shivering even if he could feel the heat radiating through his clothes. If the man ever spoke, it was never coherent. Sometimes he was more lucid than others, occasionally he could recognise him, and other times he didn’t. Those always left the witcher with his thoughts raging, and he was unsure as to why.  
“We’re here.” He stated not particularly expecting his companion to respond. He was met with a gentle whine, unsure of what that meant he continued, gripping his friend tighter. “You’ll be fine.” Geralt purred, convincing himself that it was too soothe Jaskier. Gradually he approached the entrance to the small town.  
The witcher carefully inspected the village as his horse slowed to a gentle walk, Roach’s hooves slightly sinking into the snow. People stared like they usually do. Some scared, some angry but no one dared come close to them, instantly noticing the sickly bard. Geralt couldn’t blame them. His arms curled around his friends' lightweight, pulling him down and walking up to the local village’s small inn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! It was a blast to write, I have a soft spot for sickfics and I couldn't help myself geraskier is my comfort ship. This will be a 2-3 part fic with a lot more fluff on the way!


End file.
